Chapter SeventeenRandall March took a glancing look at Frank Abbott, fixed his eyes upon Miss Silver’s face, and dropped the last remnant of the official manner.
“Look here,” he said—“what is all this? Have you, or have you not, got anything up your sleeve? In a word, what are you getting at?”
His gaze was met by one of reproach.
“Really, Randall!”
He gave a short grim laugh.
“What’s the good of saying ‘Really!’? I asked you a question, and I’m waiting in a perfectly respectful but determined spirit for the answer. I want to know whether you’ve got something up your sleeve, because if you have, I think you really must tell me what it is. On your own showing, this affair has cost four lives already. Whilst I am not entirely prepared to subscribe to that, you must admit that the busines
